Twostroke
by MariaShadow
Summary: G1 Humans aren't the only natives to attach themselves to the 'bots
1. Chapter 1

_Author'snote:I saw a picture on DeviantArt and __got to thinking: what if the cat was real and theAutobot was...well, I'll let you read and find out ;) http/ www. deviantart. com/ deviation/ 7290042/_

* * *

Part 1 

Bluestreak was royally bored out of his cranium. There had been some suspicious activity at the New York docks that Prowl had deemed worth of a stakeout and Jazz, Bluestreak, the twins and Hound had been dispatched to investigate.

At of this moment, Bluestreak was backed into a refuse-littered alleyway between two brick warehouses, trying not to think about the warm, dry comforts of the Ark. The cold November wind whistling through the gaps in his armored hide didn't really help much.

He had been sitting in his hidey hole for about three hours when a scrawny tabby kitten jumped up onto his bonnet in search of a warm place to sleep. The sudden appearance of the cat started the gunner, but he managed to contain a yelp of alarm as the feline curled up and went to sleep. The sensation of a warm little body on his hood was more than a little disconcerting for the Datsun, but in some obscure way it felt kinda nice too.

Another hour crawled by, during which Bluestreak could detect absolutely zero activity. Sure, there were the usual smugglers, drug dealers and the odd drunk, but nothing bearing a hint of the hated purple sigil.

His radio cracked. _"Jazz t' stakeout team. Prowl says t' wrap it up, nothin's happening."_ The Porsche reported. Even Bluestreak could detect the relief in Jazz's voice, he knew how much the special ops officer hated the cold.  
"Copy that Jazz." The gunner radioed back, then started his engine, hoping that the sudden vibration would dislodge the cat.

It didn't move.

The Datsun jostled himself, bouncing on his suspension. The kitten woke up, stretched, and affectionately rubbed it's face against the Autobot's windscreen wipers. "Hey, c'mon, get off already!" The embarrassed Bluestreak hissed. He shook himself harder and waved his doors in an attempt to scare the cat away. With feline grace, the kitten lithely jumped off his bonnet and into his driver's seat.

"_Yo, Blue', y' coming?"_ Jazz radioed. _"We're waiting for ya."  
_"Uh, I'm coming. Just got held up." Bluestreak called back, trying to ignore the kitten winding around his accelerator.  
"_Ok, just don't get lost."_ The Porsche teased, then cut the link.

"Are you going to get out?" Bluestreak asked the kitten, holding his door open. The kitten crawled under his driver's seat. "Optimus is gonna kill me." Bluestreak moaned as he shut his door, shifted into gear, and pulled out.


	2. Chapter 2

Part 2

Back at the Ark, Bluestreak carefully transformed, managing to get the cat in his hands in the process. He tried to sneak away and hide the cat before the de-brief, but Hound stopped him. "Hey Bluestreak, whatcha got there?" The Jeep queried, gesturing to the gunner's clasped hands.

Sheepishly, Bluestreak opened his cupped hands to reveal the feline. By now several Autobots had crowded around to see.

"Where'd ya get that?" Jazz asked, peering at the cat, who had by now curled up into a tiny ball of brown and black fuzz.  
"At the docks." Bluestreak admitted. "I tried to get rid of it, but it wouldn't get out, and you all were waiting for me, so I figured that I'd better take it with me and, yeah." He finished lamely.

"Mind if I take a look?" Sparkplug asked.  
"Sure." Bluestreak crouched and let the human reach into his hands and remove the feline. It woke up as soon as Sparkplug touched it, but happily snuggled into the crook of his elbow.

"You found her in an alley, right?" The human asked.  
"Well, kinda like it found me." Bluestreak replied, then blinked. "Wait, it's a she?"  
"Looks like it, but I'd take her to a vet to be sure. She'll need to get checked out anyway." Sparkplug replied. He scratched the kitten under her chin, eliciting a purr from the half-awake kitten. "Heh, listen to that, purring like a two stroke engine."  
"Hey, that's what we can call her, Twostroke." Trailbreaker suggested. "Whadda ya think?"  
"Sounds good." Bluestreak nodded. "Twostroke it is."

"What's going on here?"

The crowd parted and Bluestreak quickly rose as Optimus Prime entered the scene.

With one well practiced glance, he swept his gaze over the little group, taking in the sheepish gunner, the human, and the little feline. One look at Bluestreak's face confirmed his theory. "I'm sorry Bluestreak, but this is a military facility, not an animal shelter." He said. Unnoticed, Twostroke had jumped out of Sparkplug's arms and ambled over to the Prime. "The cat will have to go…" Optimus paused and looked down to see Twostroke rubbing her face against his foot. She looked up at him with her soulful green eyes and uttered a questioning "Mmrraaw?"

The Prime's resolve crumbled. He sighed. "It can stay one night. But after that it has to go." He said, attempting to save face before turning and quickly retreating, knowing full well that the 'one night' would be ignored.

Sparkplug quickly picked the kitten up again. "Well Blue', looks like you just got yourself a pet." He smiled, scratching Twostroke under her chin again. "There should be enough time to take her to the vet and get her checked out and booked in to be fixed before they close. That way we've got time to stock up on supplies."  
"Um, Sparkplug, why does she need to be fixed? It doesn't look like she's broken." The gunner queried.  
The human laughed. "She's not broken, it just means that she'll be operated on so that she can't have kittens."  
Bluestreak frowned. "Why?"  
"Somehow I don't think Prime would approve if all of a sudden there were six or seven cats running around here."  
Bluestreak thought about that for a moment. "Ah, good point."


	3. Chapter 3

Part 3

After the operation, Twostroke stayed with Spike and Sparkplug while the stitches healed and while Bluestreak made his quarters cat-friendly. Thankfully Twostroke was a quick learner, so housetraining was not as much of an issue as the humans had feared it would be.

As soon as she had recovered and settled in, the little cat set about wrapping as many Autobots around her paw as possible. But her self-appointed task was not without its difficulties.

A near mishap resulting in a five 'bot pile up inspired Wheeljack to create a collar with an automatic transponder beacon to prevent a repeat performance. And at first there was some question about how she would get around the base as she was far too small to trip the door sensors, but she found her own way around that, using the ventilation system instead.

Though some were indifferent about the feline, at the very least Twostroke was tolerated by the majority of the Autobots, and many a nightshift in the control room was made a little more bearable by the appearance of the little cat on her nightly prowls, tail held high.

Early on, she established a fairly set routine for her nocturnal activities. First, she would curl up with Bluestreak for a few hours. Then she'd wander around and outside the Ark for a while, greeting all she happened across. At some point after the 12 o'clock shift change she would then slip into one of the cabins where someone was either still up or in recharge, before finally heading back to Bluestreak's room to sleep.

There was, however, once place where she was not tolerated- the Repair Bay. Time after time Ratchet found the cat curled up next to or on top of a recuperating Autobot, purring loudly, or 'singin' th' boys t' sleep' as Jazz referred to it. Nobody had any idea how she managed to get onto the berths in the first place. And no matter how many times she was removed, she somehow found a way to get back in.

Ratchet was on night shift when he spied the tabby slink out of a small vent and make a bee line to where Cliffjumper was lying. He quickly intercepted, scooping the cat up and depositing her on the nearest bench.

The medic leaned down and glared at her, hands planted on either side of the feline. "I thought I told you to stay out." He growled. "Cats don't belong in repair bays." Twostroke mewed at him pleadingly, looking up at him with her big green eyes. Ratchet laughed. "I'm older, nastier and uglier than Prime is." He leaned in closer. "That trick doesn't work on me. Try again."  
Twostroke reared up on her hind legs and affectionately rubbed her cheek against the medic's nose, purring loudly. "Nnrroow?" She asked expectantly as she sat back down.  
The crotchety old medic groaned in defeat and let his head hang. "Ok, fine, you win. But only in post-op."  
"Mrrwaaw." Twostroke replied, happily nuzzling the medic's hand.


	4. Chapter 4

Part 4

Autobot by Autobot, Twostoke won them all over. The twins were next on her list after Ratchet. Nobody actually witnessed the victory, but everyone knew it had occurred when the twins stopped radioing Bluestreak at all hours of the day and night to come and collect his cat from their quarters.

Prowl was next. Though he tried to ignore the feline she waged a hard fought campaign, first forcing him to pay attention to her with the time honoured cat tradition of seating herself on the datapads he was working on and then trying different ways of enamoring him to her via various methods of persuasion. The one that finally broke his resistance was when she would find him on nightshift in the control room, climb up his arm and curl up on his shoulder, purring and leaning against his helmet.

After a few weeks Smokescreen started a betting pool as to who would be won over by the feline next and how long her current 'project' would last, along with regular debates over how hard the task would be. Some 'bots, like Jazz, Hound and Bumblebee, were shoo-ins and hardly worth the time to discuss. But by the time her third month at the Ark rolled around it was generally agreed that Red Alert was to date her greatest challenge.

"_BLUESTREAK! Get this, this _**thing**_ out of my monitor room!" _

The aforementioned Autobot winced and clapped both hands over his audios as the overly excitable Security Director screeched into his radio over a general frequency. Several other Autobots also tried to muffle the sound as it echoed over their radios too.

"What's she done?" Bluestreak asked as he turned and headed in Red Alert's direction.  
"_She's in a restricted area, that's what!"_ Was the indignant retort  
"_Aw c'mon man, she's just tryin' t' be friendly." _Jazz's voice broke in.  
"_Yeah, lighten up a bit, will ya?"_ Sideswipe added.  
"_It's not like she can read your files or anything."_ Sunstreaker finished.  
"_This creature is a security risk!"_ Red Alert declared. _"Just look at how she's affecting the performance of several officers. It's a Decepticon plot I tell you! A conspiracy to weaken us in preparation for an attack!"_

The link immediately exploded into static as several Autobots, both those who had spoken and the ones who had been listening in, burst out laughing. Red Alert was not impressed.

"_You'll see!" _He predicted. _"You'll all see soon enough!"  
_"_Yeah, sure."_ It was Ironhide this time. _"Just don't blow a transistor over it again or Ratchet will have your fender."  
_"_Ratchet's already been compromised and…hey! No, get off of that! Ghaaa! BLUESTREAK!" _There was a crash of something falling and a yowl before the link was abruptly severed.

The gunner broke into a run, hoping to get there before the paranoid officer turned the Ark's unofficial mascot into crisp-fried feline, or worse. Thankfully, some of the other 'bots were closer and he arrived just as Ironhide was leaving the monitor room, a hissing and fluffed up Twostroke cupped in his hands while Inferno tried to talk Red Alert down.

"Better keep th' lil' missy away from Red fer a bit." Ironhide advised as he handed Twostroke over. "Ol' Red Alert's just 'bout ready t' have her thrown in th' brig fer interrogation."  
"But, she's a cat. How can you interrogate a cat?" Bluestreak asked, confused.  
"Ah dunno." Ironhide shrugged. "But you know Red. He'll find a way."

Twostroke however, had her own ideas.

Much to the Security Director's dismay she started following him all over the Ark, staying just out of sight. Her transponder beacon had a five meter radius, so the increasingly harried officer was almost continually alerted by his systems to her presence. It didn't help that he'd tagged her transponder code as a Level 3 security alert so every time she strayed within range she set off his internal alarm.

In desperation he appealed to the command team for the removal of the cat. Unfortunately they had very little sympathy for his plight.

"Sorry dude," Jazz had said, "But you brought this on y'self. Two's stayin'."  
"There would be a riot if she were to be evicted." Prowl had added.

Red Alert knew that they were right. Quite a few of the more violently-inclined Autobots had grown to like the cat, not to mention Ratchet, and they would all be more than moderately upset if Twostroke happened to suddenly vanish.

It was about a week after the appeal to the other officers when Red Alert was checking the external sensors, his tabby-striped shadow close behind. She had perched herself on the housing of an infra-red scanner that Red Alert was inspecting when she suddenly started hissing and yowling, all her fur standing on end.

"Now what is it?" The frazzled Autobot demanded, glancing up at Twostroke. That was when he realised that she wasn't looking at him, but something else. "Eh?" Red Alert looked in the direction she was facing, training his scanners on the area. A low shadow slunk along the edge of a ridge. Red Alert recognised it immediately. "Intruder Alert!" He yelled into his comm. "Ravage spotted at sensor 23B!"  
"_Copy that. Bluestreak, Hound and Powerglide have been diverted to your location."_ Prowl radioed back. _"ETA two minutes."_

The warriors arrived quickly on the scene, flushing out not only the metallic feline, but his master and four brothers to boot. Unfortunately Soundwave and his cassettes escaped, but Twostroke had earned another notch for her collar.

Twostroke's next 'projects' however, were far more nerve-wreaking for her owner.


	5. Chapter 5

Part 5

Even after warning Red Alert about Ravage, the Security Director still didn't fully trust Twostroke or her intentions, but that was how he was. The number of people that he trusted without question could probably be counted on one hand. But he no longer called for Two's eviction, and that was good enough for her.

Over the past four months of her residency, Twostroke had charmed her way into the good graces of the majority of the Autobots, becoming their unofficial mascot. But that was not to say that the relationships were not without their occasional mishaps.

By this stage she had reached the gangly long leggedness of adolescence. And with her stamina now greatly increased, she spent more and more time roaming around the Ark and it's surrounding area.

And along with adolescence had also come the insatiable urge to hunt, and she quickly got into the habit of bringing her 'trophies' home with her, sometimes dead, sometimes not. Usually they were deposited on the threshold of the human's quarters, as they were the only occupants who were small enough to appreciate her catches, but occasionally she brought one or two to a favoured Autobot. Like the live grass snake she dragged into the Repair Bay one day…

"GHYAAAA!"  
_Crrrash  
_"RrEEyooow!"

Several 'bots did a double take as a brown and black streak shot out of one of the vents near the Repair Bay and vanished down the crowded hallways.

"SOMEBODY GET RID OF THIS FRAGGING THING!" Ratchet's unmistakable bellow rattled the double doors. With some trepidation, Bluestreak and a few other Autobots who had been within earshot peeked inside the Repair Bay.

Ratchet was backed up against one wall, staring in horror at the little green snake slithering near his feet. Energon and glass shards were scattered in a long streak on the floor from when the medic, acting purely on instinct, had thrown his glass of energon when he had spotted the snake deposited by his chair. Somebody choked back a giggle with little success, and the CMO's head snapped up, delivering a threatening glare worthy of the twins at their intimidatory best. "Don't even dare it." He snarled, optics narrowed.

In the end, it was Gears who plucked up enough courage to gingerly pick up the offending reptile and remove it, while Bluestreak attempted to track down his cat before she had a chance to get into even more trouble with someone else.

However, he hadn't gone far when there was another feline yowl. The door to the Dinobot's lair slid open and Grimlock stomped out, Twostroke in his hands. He thrust the cat at Bluestreak. "You Bluestreak keep stupid organic out of us Dinobot's room." He growled, poking one finger in the gunner's face for extra effect. "Us Dinobots not like stupid fuzzy pet."

Twostroke hissed as she changed hands, her tail as thick as a bottle brush. For Bluestreak the scene was all too familiar. As he carried his pet back to his room a distinct sensation of uneasiness started to curl around his laser core. This was not going to be pretty.

His prediction came true in less than an hour.

"_Bluestreak, get down to the Dino's lair!"_ Smokescreen radioed. _"Twostroke's back in there!"  
_"On my way!" Bluestreak called back, sprinting out the door and wondering if there was some way of rigging Two's collar to keep her out of where she wasn't supposed to be. _"This must be what Sparkplug was meaning about having kids."_ He thought to himself.

Snarl and Slag had Twostroke backed into a corner by the time Bluestreak arrived, the two Dinobots using their swords to keep the cat hemmed in. For her part, Twostroke was putting on an impressive display, hissing and swiping at anything that came within range with her ears folded back against her skull and fur standing on end. Swoop was perched on one of the bunks and watching with great curiosity, while Grimlock and Sludge stood a little further off.

The gunner's fuel pump almost stopped when Two tried to make a break for it and Slag slammed his foot into the cat's path, but the feline stopped short just before the Dinobot's foot came down on where her head would have been if she'd kept running. With a strangled cry Bluestreak elbowed his way past the Dinobots and scooped up Twostroke before she had a chance to use up another of her nine lives.

"You're going to get yourself killed at this rate." Bluestreak murmured as he cradled the still agitated feline. Grimlock growled and stabbed one finger in the gunner's face. "Keep stupid fraidy cat out of us Dinobot's quarters or else Grimlock make sure she not do it again." He ordered. Twostroke hissed and made a valiant attempt at taking Grimlock's fingertip off. Her teeth and claws did no damage, but at least the Dinobot leader was somewhat surprised by her sheer determination. Bluestreak quickly detached Twostroke from Grimlock's finger and left before the Dinobot could make another objection to her continued existence.

Thankfully the experience with Snarl and Slag seemed to have taught the adventurous little cat a lesson. For almost two days straight she almost never strayed out of beacon range of Bluestreak. But on the third day…

"Hey Hound!" Bluestreak jogged up to the scout. "Have you seen Two anywhere?" He asked. "Nobody's seen her all morning."  
"Hate to say it, but neither have I." Hound replied. "Anything from her beacon?"  
"Nothing. And Teletran's tracking system is down again, so I can't use it to find her."  
"Let's take a walk around." Hound suggested. "Maybe we'll find her in a vent somewhere."  
"Okay."

They wandered around the Ark for about ten minutes before their receivers finally blipped, the two mechs slowly turning and exchanging worried glances as soon as they saw where she was. The Dinobot's lair.

"Uh oh." Bluestreak gulped.  
"Ditto." Hound nodded. He steeled himself and palmed the door lock. A tangle of sleeping Dinos greeted the two mech's gaze. And atop the pile, curled up on the dozing T-rex's snout, was Twostroke. Hound tapped the door lock again, letting the door slide shut. "Well," He said with a half shrug, "At least you don't have to worry about the Dinobots anymore."  
Bluestreak groaned. "Yeah, but who else is she going to make friends with?"  
"Good point."


	6. Chapter 6

One hour, fifteen minutes, 23 seconds and counting. That was how long Bluestreak, Tracks and Powerglide had been missing. They had been sent out to investigate an anomaly at a local power plant when their beacons had vanished from Teletran's scanners. Autobots were combing the area, but no trace of them had yet been found.

"Mmroow?"

Prowl looked down at the cat standing beside his station in the command center and immediately guessed the cause of her question. "No Twostroke, he's not here."  
"MMrooW." She seemed to insist, rearing up and putting her front paws on the Datsun's leg.  
"He's not here, but we'll find him." Prowl promised. The cat gave another little cry and walked away, obviously in distress.

"Ah still don't get why y'all talk t' that animal like she understands ya." Ironhide shook his head. "She don't know a word o' what you just said."  
"She appears to have understood something." Prowl replied, looking over to where Twostroke was now interrogating Smokescreen. "And she knows that something is wrong. Why else would she be looking for Bluestreak if she did not know that something had happened to him?"  
"She's just an animal." The older 'bot shrugged. "That she's walkin' 'round cryin' don't mean a thing."

"Don't be so sure Ironhide. Some animals have what we call a sixth sense." Sparkplug spoke up from next to Teletran. "Back when I was in Vietnam we had a dog handler in my unit. For some reason or another he had to go back to one of the main camps and leave the dog at a M.A.S.H unit we had been stationed at for a week or so. Anyway, the second day he was away the dog went nuts for about two hours, howling, barking, you name it. When the handler got back we found out that the convoy he was in got attacked by a couple of MIG's at about the same time the dog went crazy."  
"So?"  
"So I'm saying that Two probably has an idea that something bad has happened to her Autobot." Sparkplug replied, earning himself a queer look from both officers. "Well, she adopted him, didn't she? So according to Twostroke, Bluestreak is hers."

"I never thought it was that way." Prowl frowned slightly.  
Sparkplug laughed. "You never had a pet, did you Prowl?"  
"No, I can't say that I did."  
"Didn't think so."

0o0o0

By now Twostroke had finished asking all the Autobots in the control room and moved on.

She knew that something was Not Right. As far as she could reason, Friend had gone out hunting with Others like he always did. Friend should have been back by now. Something was Not Right, and Bad stuff happened when things were Not Right. The feline slipped inside the place she shared with Friend and nosed around, searching for him. His scent was strong here, but it was old. Twostroke sat down and gave a little mew. Friend was so big and she was so small. The Others didn't know where Friend was, so how could she find him?

Loud noises started ringing outside. Twostroke perked up slightly, ears swiveled forwards in curiosity. All sorts of Things happened when those noises started. Maybe one of those Things would bring Friend home. With that in mind, she padded through the vent to take a peek at what was happening.

0o0o0

"Report!" Prime ordered into the radio as he ran to the control room.  
"_The scouting unit has been located at grid reference 22347, approximately thirty miles north by north east from the power plant, in the forest."_ Prowl crisply reported, relaying the information as it came to him.  
"Any idea what happened out there?"  
"_Preliminary reports from the search team indicate Decepticon presence in the area. The Aerialbots have been dispatched to secure the location…hold on… Decepticon presence confirmed. Soundwave, Megatron, the Seekers and at least two Constructicons. Silverbolt is requesting backup."  
_Prime altered his course. "Prowl, get the twins, Blaster and the Protectobots and meet me at the main entrance."  
"_Copy that."_

0o0o0

Something was happening.

Twostroke watched from behind the grill of the vent, crouched low. The Others were running here and there, and the scents were strange, mixed. She knew better than to go and investigate while all those big feet were pounding on the floor. Her close call with the two Big Others had been more than close enough, thank you very much.

The Other who looked like her paused at the grill. He growled something, then stuck his nose through the grill and gently nudged her. Twostroke had no idea what he was trying to tell her, but recognised the gesture as a comforting one. She mewed in response and sniffed noses with him before rubbing her cheek against his.

Steeljaw had no clue what Twostroke was saying, but he realised that she was trying to thank him. "Steeljaw, c'mon!" Rewind called. Steeljaw growled a farewell to the little cat and bounded after his brother cassette.

Twostroke followed him, but with her comparatively short legs she had no hope of keeping up. By the time she reached the main entrance the convoy had already vanished in a cloud of dust. Twostroke picked her way across the warm asphalt and crouched under a scrubby bush. The Others would be back, and they'd have Friend with them. She could wait.

0o0o0

The sun had shifted high into the sky by the time the unit returned. Ratchet was waiting for them at the main entrance, three gurneys at his side and Hoist and Grapple pressed into service as orderlies while Wheeljack and Perceptor prepped the Repair Bay. Twostroke stayed out of the way as the wounded were unloaded from Prime's trailer. Aside from a large chunk of missing wing Powerglide was pretty much fine, but both Tracks and Bluestreak were offline and Hound, whom had been the one to locate the missing warriors, had caught a point-blank blast from Hook, severing both legs just below the knee.

Ratchet barked out orders and hurried inside with the three critical patients, the walking wounded straggling in behind. Twostroke caught the scent of Bluestreak and hurried in after them, but again she was too slow and made it to the Repair Bay long after the doors to the operating theater had slammed shut.

A little dispirited, Twostroke curled up beside Prowl, who was quietly seated on the floor waiting for First Aid to come and tend to his damaged right arm. The feline started purring softly. This one wasn't Friend, but he looked like Friend and he was hurt. For now that was enough for her.

0o0o0

Autobots came and left, and still Twostroke waited. She visited several other wounded, but every time someone went near the door to the operating theater she almost jumped out of her fur to get there. Finally, Ratchet, Wheeljack and Perceptor emerged. The latter two mechs almost immediately headed for the medics' lounge for a swig of energon while the CMO lingered, checking on the two or three Autobots still in the process of being tended to and making sure his intern wasn't about to fall asleep on his feet.

Almost unnoticed, Twostroke padded over to the theater door and sniffed at it, then tried clawing at it. She could smell Bluestreak in there but she couldn't get to him. She ran to Ratchet and mewed, then ran back to the door and looked over her shoulder at the medic.

"No Twostroke." Ratchet answered tiredly, deliberately not looking at the little feline.  
"Mmaaaaawwww?" Twostroke pleaded. She wound around his feet and looked up at him with her big green eyes.

The CMO subtlety checked to make sure nobody was watching, and when he was sure the coast was clear, scooped up the cat and keyed open the door. He carefully walked through the maze of life support equipment and gently placed Twostroke beside Bluestreak's head.

He was still offline from the surgery, but he was there, and that was good enough for Twostroke. She started purring immediately and curled up in the little hollow between the gunner's shoulder and his neck. Ratchet's lips quirked in a small smile and he made his way out.

That was when he noticed the security camera. Optics narrowed, Ratchet made three very clear gestures to the watching Security Director. He pointed directly at the lens; mimed zipping his lips shut, and then drew one finger across his neck. 'You, keep quiet, or else.'


	7. Chapter 7

Part 1

Ratchet hated Tuesdays. Every time the Decepticons launched their attack on a Monday, almost always they'd be fit and ready to cause damage by the Tuesday of next week, which was exactly what had happened this week.

"Let go you fraggin' lil'..." Ratchet cursed, struggling with a piece of shrapnel lodged in the plating on Hound's shoulder, courtesy of one of the Insecticons. To the tracker's credit, he neither moved nor made a sound as the medic worked the shard of metal free, though the discomfort was obvious. Ratchet grit his dental plates, braced one foot against the berth and pulled. The shrapnel tore free and Hound let out a yelp of pain, clutching at his shoulder. Ratchet couldn't help feeling guilty at the Jeep's pain but he didn't really have much choice. They were running low on sedatives and if he knocked Hound out it would just create one more deadweight to drag around medbay and slow things up. "Okay Hound, get your aft over to Grapple." He ordered, tossing the shrapnel aside and helping the tracker sit up and slide off the berth.

"RATCHET!"

The CMO looked up as Bluestreak burst into the room, optics wide and pale with fright and hands cupped to his chest. "Ratchet! It's Twostroke you gotta help her she's hurt I found her outside just before the battle finished, it was Frenzy and Rumble and she's hurt! You've gotta save her!" The panicked gunner babbled, thrusting his cupped hands towards the medic to reveal the bloody mass of brown and black fur inside.

"Sparkplug! Get over here!" Ratchet barked, then turned his attention to carefully easing the cat out of Bluestreak's hands and into his own.

The human jogged over "Yeah Ratchet?"

Ratchet knelt and showed him Twostroke. Sparkplug swore and whipped off his jacket, carefully bundling it around the cat and taking extra care to tie a sleeve around the bloody mess of what had been foreleg.

Incongruously enough, she was weakly purring as Sparkplug picked her up and cradled her in his arms. "We've gotta get her to a vet, pronto." The human said, casting around for suitable transport. "Sunstreaker, can you…"

"On it." The Lamborghini pushed off the wall he had been leaning against and dropped into vehicle mode, opening one door to allow the human and his precious cargo in.

"Wait, I can take her!" Bluestreak protested as the sports car revved his engine and pulled out.

"Bluestreak, look at your hands." Ratchet said gently.

The gunner complied, drawing in a long, shuddering breath when he saw the already sticky blood on his palms and fingers. "Oh no, ohnoohnoohnoohnoohno." He shuddered and headed for the nearest sink, thrusting his hands under the water and scrubbing hard. "Jazz?" Ratchet asked. The Porsche nodded and limped over to the Datsun. Ratchet could hear him talking to the distraught mech in soft tones, then led him over to a bench and sat down beside him, still quietly consoling him.

Ratchet let a flicker of worry cross his features, but that was all that could be allowed as the swinging double doors burst open again to admit Hotspot with Groove slung over his shoulders in a fireman's carry.

0o0o0

That night, when the wounded were tended to and the base secured, Ratchet stumbled into the Common Room just as Prowl relayed Sunstreaker's latest transmission on Twostroke's condition.

"…is stable for the moment." The black and white was saying as Ratchet entered. "Sparkplug and Sunstreaker will return once they have all the information from the veterinarian. I have also studied the available data from the battle. It appears that Soundwave ordered the attack on Twostroke."

Brawn frowned, not quite comprehending. "Why? She's just a cat."

"Psychological warfare." Smokescreen spoke up. "Hurting someone close to your enemy can be as effective as hurting your enemy, if not more so."

Sideswipe let out a snort of disgust. "Ten minutes and me and Sunny 'ill have him screaming so loud he'll bust his vocals."

"Us Dinos do it in five." Grimlock rumbled, the rest of his team voicing their agreement.

"How's Bluestreak doing?" Silverbolt queried, the team leader looking up at Ratchet.

"Shaken, badly." Ratchet gruffly replied, pouring himself a drink from the dispensers lined up along the far wall and adding a few chemical supplements to it. "'Aid's watching him tonight."

"Poor 'bot." The Concord shook his head sadly. "Two' means a lot to him. Wouldn't want to see what would happen if she didn't pull through."

"She will." Grimlock interrupted, adamant. "She tough-cat. No stupid Decepticons kill her."

"I hope so." Ratchet muttered. "Primus I hope so."


	8. Chapter 8

Part 2

Prowl collected the latest reports from the Command Deck and scrolled through them with a weary sigh, doorwings hanging limp and optics dim with exhaustion as he sat down in his traditional seat off to the side of Teletran's main screen. It had been a very, very long day in a series of very long days and though he wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner and pass out for a week Prowl knew that he had more pressing matters at hand. He settled into his chair and began reading, resolutely redirecting the corner of his mind that would always remain alert for the welcome blip of Twostroke's beacon. He had to focus.

He didn't even notice the Prime's approach until the massive warrior had eased himself into the adjacent chair and asked a single question. "Are you alright?"

"No." Prowl shook his head slightly, looking up from the datapads. "But then it seems that nobody is quite right in the head at the moment." He held up the reports to illustrate his point. "No less than eight attempts to leave the base unauthorized or deviate from assigned patrol routes today."  
"More hunting parties?" Prime guessed.  
"Yes. It appears Soundwave has earned himself the position of 'Most Hated Decepticon' for his act."  
"Indeed."

There was a pause as Prime shifted his bulk to a slightly more comfortable position, the chair not really having been designed for someone of his height. "How is Bluestreak holding up?" He asked, knowing that the 2IC had been spending quite a bit of time with the younger mech in his off-duty hours.  
"I am…unsure." Prowl's features twisted into a momentary expression of self-reproach at the reply, but it was gone before Optimus could confirm it. "He is extremely concerned about Twostroke's welfare. That is for certain."  
"Has there been any further word from the veterinarian?"  
"I have asked him to report any changes in her condition directly to me. There have been no reports in the last 12 hours, and I have not asked for an update yet. He was quite tolerant of all the calls in the first few days and I did not wish to bother him with unnecessary requests for progress reports."

Optimus nodded once. "Alright." He reached over and plucked the datapads from Prowl's grasp. "Go get some recharge Prowl. I'll take care of this."  
"But Prime, I…"  
"Go." Optimus repeated, a small smile crinkling the corners of his optics. "Ratchet will have my head if I let you run yourself into the ground."  
"Yes sir." Prowl obediently replied, rising and making his way out of the Control Room. If invoked, the threat of the wrath of the Chief Medical Officer was not a thing to be trifled with.

Prime watched him go, feeling the ever present energies of Matrix hum with approval inside his chest. It was easy to see that the 2IC was exhausted, but even then it took an order to make him put his own needs above that of the unit. Optimus sighed and inclined his head slightly. _"Primus, please do not let that bright spark of life die out. She has come to mean more to us than we realised."_

0o0o0

Mirage suppressed an irritated expression as he selected the proper supplements to add to his last ration intake for the night. He had numbered among the eight attempts to leave the base during the day. In a rather stunning lapse he had allowed Red Alert to catch him in the Armory. The security officer had confiscated his rifle and missile launcher in an attempt to curb any future excursions.

Not that that would stop him for long.

But for now, the spy deigned to remain obedient until the proper opportunity arose. And when that happened, the hunt would be on.

His optics narrowed ever so slightly as he recalled the reason for his ire. Though he himself was not above occasionally stabbing someone in the back or an equally underhanded tactic when it was unavoidable, to attack a defenseless animal was a new low in the depths of cowardice.

"Good evening Mirage."

The familiar voice intruded on his dark musings. Mirage quarter-turned to greet the newcomer- a weary looking Prowl. "Good evening." He replied politely, stepping back to give the other mech access to the energon dispenser. Prowl nodded his thanks and set about making up his own drink. Mirage couldn't help but notice that the 2IC added double of everything into his mug.

"Has there been…" Mirage started, but Prowl held up one hand in a silent request for pause and knocked back a gulp of his much needed rations first. "Nothing yet, we can only assume that her condition is unchanged." Prowl informed him.  
"Ah."

They stood there for a moment in more or less companionable silence, taking the occasional sip from their respective cups, when Prowl suddenly paused and touched one hand to the radio unit embedded in the side of his head. A frown marked his brow, followed by a brisk "I'll be there in a minute" to whoever it was on the other side of the line. He glanced over at Mirage and uttered a quiet "Excuse me" before slipping out.

0o0o0

The nurse was waiting at one of the open windows when Prowl pulled up at the vet's office and transformed, gingerly stepping over the carefully manicured garden before crouching at the window. "My apologies for taking so long." He said apologetically.  
The nurse smiled at him. "No problem, we know you're busy." Her brow furrowed a bit. "Are you alright? You look about ready to sleep on your feet."

Prowl suppressed a rueful smile. This woman was just too good at reading people, alien robotic warriors or otherwise. "It has been a long day." He admitted.  
She smiled. "Well, hopefully here's something that'll make your day a little better." She vanished for a moment then returned with a blanket wrapped bundle of black and brown tabby. "Twostroke." Prowl smiled and carefully held out one finger for the cat to sniff, which she did, starting to purr immediately.

That was when he saw the bandaged stump where her left foreleg had been. "What happened?"  
"There was simply too much damage." The nurse readjusted her grip on the bundle. "We had to amputate the leg before infection could set in."

Prowl frowned at the stark reminder of the difference between robotic life and most organic life. They couldn't just replace limbs and internal systems like his kind could. It was…illogical. He shook the thought away and returned to the matter at hand. "May I have copies of the scans you took? Our scientists may be able to produce a suitable replacement limb."  
"Of course." She nodded, then smiled down at the cat she cradled. "She's going to be on antibiotics for a while, but she can go home tomorrow if you like."  
"Tomorrow?"  
"Yup." She reached around to scratch the cat under her chin. "Is that alright?"

For the first time in a long time Prowl let a genuine smile crease his face. "It certainly will be. She has been sorely missed."  
She smiled back at him, her sun-freckled nose crinkling a little. "We thought so." She chuckled. "It's not every day we have everything from sports cars to tractor-trailer trucks pulling up at our door."  
"_Tractor-trailer trucks? So that was what Prime was up to."_ Prowl neatly filed that bit of information away and stood. "Shall I return tomorrow afternoon with Twostroke's owner at 1300 hours?"  
She paused for a moment then nodded. "One o'clock will be fine."  
"Thankyou. Good evening."

The 2IC gingerly stood and walked back to the road, then transformed and turned for home. This was some good news indeed.


End file.
